


Weaponized Kindness

by Devils_Official



Series: Your Loneliest Loneliness [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bondage, Brainwashing, Every bad thing you can imagine, Force Feeding, Forced Orgasm, Hallucinations, M/M, Overstimulation, Psychological Torture, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 18,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devils_Official/pseuds/Devils_Official
Summary: “Killing you would be too merciful. When I am Emperor, I will make you my slave.”In which Sendak carries through with his promises.(Viewer discretion is advised. The warnings and tags are there for a reason. Some pretty bad stuff happens.)





	1. Lotor’s Very Bad, Horrible, No-Good Day

Lotor held his head high, just as high as he would have held it if he was, in fact, the emperor right now.

_ As he should have been.  _

__ There was no reason to dwell on that; it wasn’t useful. He might as well have dwelled on a thousand other injustices. This was merely the most recent.

Sendak thought he could break him. 

Sendak was wrong. 

It was as simple as that. 

Lotor hadn’t survived this long by remaining fragile. 

The jeers of Sendak’s crew washed off him like water off a duflax’s back. They knew better than to touch him, and words- They could be weapons, but he had long since become immune to whatever damage they could do. 

He thought, briefly, about breaking out of his cuffs, and attacking the sentry in front of him, but discarded the thought almost as soon as it occurred to him. 

The sentries’ weapons would be set to stun; he couldn’t escape, and they wouldn’t kill him. It was not a way out, and it might incur punishment. 

He could handle it, if he had to, but he’d rather not for something as useless as his little show of rebellion would be.

Sendak knew this was a game, just like Lotor did. The only difference was that Sendak thought he’d already won. 

It wouldn’t be over until one of them was dead. 


	2. Mouthing off to Sendak was not Lotor’s Best Move, Probably

Lotor stood at attention, not because Sendak demanded it, but because it revealed nothing about what was going through his head. And this way, Sendak couldn’t see the way his claws dug into the meat of his hands, which were crossed at the wrist behind his back.

“Strip,” Sendak said, in his commander’s voice, the one that brooked no disagreement.

Lotor ignored him and continued staring at the wall. 

“I will not repeat myself,” Sendak said, more dangerously. 

Lotor wasn’t afraid. He’d never been afraid of Sendak. He respected Sendak’s tactical genius, and once he might have admired his loyalty, but the man had been bested by a group of children. 

Sendak yanked his chin up, so that Lotor was looking at him.

“You will do as I say,” Sendak said lowly. “Or you will face the consequences. Am I clear?”

Lotor jerked his chin away. “Quite.”

“Quite what?”

“Quite, you bastard.”

Sendak cuffed his across the mouth. Lotor grinned, bloody. “Is that the worst you can do?”

Next thing Lotor knew, he was pressed up against the wall, Sendak behind him. “Do you want to reconsider your words?”

“No,” Lotor gasped. He never had, and he wasn’t about to now. 

Lotor’s armor had already been stripped away, but now Sendak was ripping his flightsuit off with his claws, and he wasn’t being too careful about it, either. 

Lotor snarled and thrashed, but Sendak was too big and too strong. 

“Be grateful there are only a few scratches,” Sendak growled. “I could do so much worse to you. Remember that.”

The only thing Lotor was grateful for at the moment was that Sendak had changed out his prosthetic to something a little more practical and a little less ostentatious. Sendak used that hand to pin both of Lotor’s wrists above his head, and as much as Lotor struggled, he couldn’t get free. 

But it wasn’t painful, per se. The other prosthetic would surely have crushed his wrists beyond repair, and he’d need his hands in full working order if he was going to kill Sendak. 

Sendak kicked his legs apart, and Lotor braced himself. This was not the first time he’d been in this position, though it was the first time he hadn’t purposefully placed himself in it. 

Lotor swallowed every noise that bubbled up as Sendak forced his way in; he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

Finally, finally, Sendak was fully seated, and Lotor let out a soft breath. The worst part was over, and he only had to bear it until Sendak came. Then Sendak would lose his interest -for now -and Lotor could devote himself to getting out of here. To killing Sendak. 

“The rumors are true after all,” Sendak growled. “Is there any commander you haven’t let fuck you?”

“You,” Lotor snarled in return.

“I own you now.” Sendak began fucking him roughly. It did nothing for Lotor except make him wonder if he’d need medical attention after this. He was fairly certain Sendak didn’t want him dead. Just demoralized. Humiliated. Broken. 

It would take more than this. 

* * *

Sendak left him in a heap on the floor when he was done.

It took a minute or two for Lotor to get his legs back under him, and by the time he was mostly upright, the door slid open again. Several sentries entered the room.

Lotor was immediately on edge, the uncertainty of what they would do to him clawing at his throat. 

He fought back, but there were five of them, and only one of him, and he was unarmed, undressed, sore. 

They pinned him to the floor and secured a collar around his neck, and cuffs on his wrists and ankles.

Then they forcibly unsheathed his claws and filed them down nearly to the quick. He snarled and fought them the whole time, but there was nothing he could do.

He’d felt this helpless before, but he hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now. 

But they left, finally, and he took some time to catch his breath, then pushed himself to his feet and showered. 

He was patient. He was resilient. He could survive this. 

And he would. 


	3. Lotor’s kink is mutual love and respect and this is...not that

The room Sendak stored him in was nice enough for what it was: a prison, but also a secure room for Sendak to have his way with him whenever he wished. 

The only piece of furniture was the bed, and there were no blankets, no sheets, no pillows. His comfort was unimportant; he should he grateful they allowed him a bed at all.

There were no fixtures for the same reason there were no sheets: Sendak hadn’t put this much effort into enslaving Lotor for him to hang himself.

Lotor wouldn’t have. It wasn’t a victory, and he could put up with anything as long as he won. 

He was even given a bathroom -just a shower stall, a toilet, and a sink -though it did not have a door, or a mirror. 

Which was fine. The next time he looked at his reflection, he would have won. Sendak would be dead. 

A large hand in his hair brought him back to the present. He swallowed the growl that bubbled up; Sendak didn’t like that, and he was tired today, too tired to deal with whatever punishment he would come up with, however unimaginative it was. 

“You’re awfully quiet today.” 

Lotor couldn’t decipher that tone: was Sendak angry? Pleased? Observant? 

He didn’t need to. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” Sendak continued. “Perhaps you would prefer I give you to someone else. Maybe let to bridge crew pass you amongst themselves when they please me. Would you prefer that to this?” 

Such a suggestion was...depraved, and that alone made heat spike through Lotor. It might have been preferable to this; most Galra were not endowed in the same way as Sendak, and that would make it easier. 

He would probably not be aroused by it, just as he was not aroused now, but it would have been more difficult to ignore, and maybe the sensations of it would banish the thoughts from his head, even just briefly. 

Still, he knew how Sendak wanted him to answer. “No, just you. Please…” He tried to add a desperate whine in there, but it was difficult. He felt nothing, would allow himself to feel nothing. Sendak’s cock was large enough to make even the most stubborn feel an unwilling arousal, but Lotor had never been less hard in his life. “Please…” he tried again. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, Sire. Please keep me to yourself, Sire.” The punishment for not convincing Sendak would not be a carry-through on his threats; Sendak was much too possessive for that. It would be worse. 

Sendak began fucking him again, almost unexpectedly, and an unbidden noise fell from Lotor’s lips. 

For the sake of what was left of his pride, he would not call it a whine, or a whimper, or even a moan. 

“That’s right,” Sendak said. “Finally, you behave yourself. So good…”

Every muscle in Lotor’s body stiffened at that, and his cock twitched against the sheets. 

Sendak noticed the former, at the very least, for he stilled, withdrawing entirely from Lotor’s body. 

It should have been a relief, but Lotor was too apprehensive for that. 

“So you like that,” Sendak said, and Lotor was glad he couldn’t see Sendak’s face, glad Sendak couldn’t see his. “Never got enough praise, did you? When was the last time someone said a kind word to you?”

Lotor didn’t answer, because he didn’t know. Couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter; he knew his worth, and he didn’t need validation or recognition or whatever it was that other people wanted. Needed. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Sendak said, and it hit Lotor with the force of a solar storm.

A choked sob escaped his lips. 

Sendak’s mouth was on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nipping at the delicate skin there. Never hard enough to hurt, never enough to bring the bright pain he needed to get his wits about him again. 

“I’ve been too rough with you, haven’t I?” Sendak crooned. “You’ve handled torture at the hands of the druids. Whatever I could do to hurt you, you could handle. But this? How can you prepare a defense against something you’ve never experienced ?” 

Sendak’s hand was between his legs, stroking the ridges on his cock with a slow deliberation, gauging exactly how sensitive Lotor was. 

Very; he always had been, and he very clearly remembered the last time he’d bothered to touch himself: his blood had been up after facing Voltron on Thayserix, and that had been...months ago, by now. 

Lotor yanked reflexively at the cuffs that held him face-down on the bed. He growled, he unsheathed what was left of his claws, he fought with everything he had left. Sendak was right: he could have handled torture, but this was something else, something worse, a kind of weaponized kindness, and it was somehow more painful and damaging than whatever Sendak could do to his body. 

Sendak squeezed his cock until Lotor’s vision whited out with the pain and he fell limp. 

“Hush, don’t fight me. I could do so much worse to you.”

“Then do it!” Lotor spat. “Make good on your threats, Sendak!”

Sendak chuckled, and Lotor realized his mistake. 

“So, you aren’t wholly broken after all. I was beginning to wonder. I thought it would take more than a little humiliation and blackmail and pain to break you. But perhaps I’ve been looking at it wrong. A good commander, after all, doesn’t just punish bad behavior; he also rewards good behavior. What is it that you want, Lotor?”

It was the first time someone had used his name in...weeks? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t trust himself to answer. 

Sendak waited a few moments, then sighed. “Fine. Think about it, then; I’ll ask again in the morning.” 

Sendak moved off the bed, and Lotor heard him dressing, and then he was leaving, the doors sliding shut behind him. 

The cuffs were still firmly attached to the bedposts. 

He tugged on them futilely. Even his ankles were cuffed, and the cuffs fit too snugly for him to slip out of them, even if he dislocated his thumbs. 

He shivered, not at his predicament, but because the room was kept cold for Sendak’s comfort, and Lotor was naked and couldn’t curl up on himself like he usually did. 

It could have been worse: he could have been left half-hard and needy, but even Sendak’s ministrations hadn’t really worked. Captivity disagreed with his libido quite profoundly, he’d discovered. 

He wondered if that was a blow to Sendak’s ego. After all, Sendak was basically a perfect example of an attractive Galra. A paragon of beauty; he could have had anyone he wanted. But he had Lotor now, and Lotor made no secret that he wasn’t submitting to this willingly. That he wasn’t even aroused by Sendak. 

He did not sleep well, but he hadn’t slept well since he’d arrived here; he was used to it, and he could handle it. Like he could handle anything else Sendak threw at him.  ****


	4. Things Could Be Worse

He was awake by the time Sendak came back, and had been awake long enough that he was no longer groggy with sleeplessness. Good; he’d need to be aware. 

“So. I’ll ask one more time, Lotor: what do you want?”

“My freedom,” Lotor said. It was the truth, but not the full truth.

Sendak stroked his back, a claw tracing the criss-crossing scars that marked him from his shoulders to the small of his back. 

Lotor flinched at the gentle touch. 

“I remember when you got these,” Sendak said softly. His tone revealed nothing, and Lotor almost wished he could see his eyes, so he’d know exactly how Sendak was feeling. So he could use it against him. 

“Were you there?” Lotor asked coolly. “I didn’t realize.” A lie; he remembered every single person who’d seen him humiliated that day.

“Most of the others are dead.”

“It’s not surprising. It’s been a while, and we have been at war.” He’d only had to arrange a few convenient accidents. 

“You know I could leave you like this,” Sendak said. “For as long as I wished.”

Of course Sendak could. He could do whatever he wanted to Lotor. That’s how slavery worked. Lotor didn’t answer. 

“Maybe I should.”

After being stuck like this all night… The thought was not a pleasant one. His appetite might have vanished almost completely, along with his libido, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to piss. 

Thankfully, Sendak continued. “But I am feeling merciful today.” He unclasped the chains attached to the cuffs on his ankles first, and then did the same to his wrists. 

Lotor couldn’t quite believe it. After that first time, Sendak always kept him restrained when they were alone together. 

Cautiously, he pushed himself up on his hands, then sat back on his heels. Every single one of his joints was sore from being stuck in the same position all night. Frankly, he wasn’t even entirely sure he could walk. 

It wasn’t quite what he meant when he’d asked for his freedom, but for now… For now, it was the best he was going to get. 

He did not look at Sendak as he slowly stretched and put his feet on the floor, though he could feel Sendak’s eyes on him, watching his every move. 

Lotor was past feeling shame about his nudity, but he didn’t particularly like that Sendak watched him piss. It was rather odd. 

He was reluctant to return to the bed, but it wasn’t like there was anything else for him to do. After all, Sendak could just drag him out of the bathroom if he wanted. 

Sendak was seated on the edge of the bed, his knees spread. Lotor swallowed; he had an inkling of what Sendak wanted, and it was perhaps one of his least favorite things to do to Sendak. 

He stopped a few feet away, his back rigidly straight. He met Sendak’s eye with a defiant tilt to his chin. 

“You gave me quite a bit to think about,” Sendak said, “as you always have. I used to admire you, you know. I still do. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you had come to me willingly. Then we could rule side-by-side, and you could have everything you’ve ever wanted…”

Lotor gritted his teeth to keep from saying one of the thousand retorts that came to him. 

“And I think, if perhaps you were not so... _ yourself _ , we could still have that.  _ I _ could still have that, whether you want it or not. After all,” Sendak continued, “you are my property now. There is nothing I can’t do to you. 

“But don’t worry,” he said with a razor-sharp grin, “ _ I _ won’t hurt you.” 

The door slid open, as if this had been arranged beforehand. Perhaps it had; Sendak did use showmanship to his advantage on occasion. He just didn’t have a flair for it. 

A bevy of guards and one Druid stepped into the room. Lotor’s back was against the wall  before he even realized he was moving. 

He could not remember the last time he was this afraid. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning everything out except the need to escape, to get away. 

Somehow, he managed to turn to Sendak. “No,” he gasped. “Please. Please don’t.”

“It’s too late for that,” Sendak replied, from light-years away. He stood and left. 

Despite his shaking, Lotor managed to put up a fight. Not much of one; there were four guards and only one of him. But he fought anyway. He couldn’t go back. He’d rather die than that.

In the end, like everything else, it was out of his control. His claws were cracked and bloody and sore, his fangs were blood-stained, and his panic only grew. 

Whatever they meant to do to him, he’d have to endure. This time… He wasn’t sure he could. 


	5. Things Get Worse

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been strung up like this. 

He was well past feeling the pain of his hunger; after a while, he grew used to it, and his hunger was the only thing keeping him company. 

He would have screamed if he was able to, just to hear something, but he was gagged. It made his jaw ache.

His arms were bound up behind him in such a way that, if he tried to put anymore weight on them, he’d end up dislocating his shoulders. A major injury in anyone else. 

It would still hurt. 

It might be worth it, though, just so he could feel something besides the gnawing hunger in his belly, the strain in his calves as he tried to keep the weight off his arms. 

He was used to being alone. Preferred it most of the time. But he’d always had something to occupy him, keep his mind busy: his explorations, his research, planning, strategizing, a thousand other things. 

Now there was nothing. All those things he’d done felt like they had happened to someone else.

His life had begun when they put him in here. Everything else was…

There was only this silent cold black void, so like and unlike the inky expanse of space he’d looked at as a child. 

A sudden panic came over him, at the thought that maybe no one would come to get him. He’d burned all his bridges, hadn’t he? There was no one in the universe who gave a damn about him. So he might be left here forever, left with nothing to stimulate his mind, trapped in his own body, in his own thoughts…

He struggled against his bonds. A mistake; agony lanced through his shoulders, a purposeless pain that achieved him nothing.

He tried desperately to right himself, but he was tired and dizzy and it was so dark…

The blindfold was damp. 

It took him far too long to realize his tears had caused that. 

Was he...crying? 

He was just so tired. He just wanted to sleep. Just for a minute. If he could just have a moment of respite, just a second…

He wanted to scream in frustration, but he could do nothing, just cry and hang there.

It was...Minutes?...Hours?...Years?...later when the door slid open.

Surely it was just a hallucination brought on by extreme sleep and sensory deprivation.

He strained to hear the soft footfalls anyway.

He flinched in surprise when a hand stroked his cheek. He leaned into it, desperate for some kind of contact, but the hand was pulled away.

“Are you ready to be good?”

Lotor almost sobbed. Actually  _ hearing _ something after so long was...It was a relief, and it hit him like an orgasm, leaving him quaking and shivering. The words themselves did not register immediately. 

The other person repeated them. “Are you ready to be good for me finally?”

Lotor nodded. He tried speaking around the gag, but only garbled noises came out. He would have begged if he could. 

“You’re so sweet and obedient now, aren’t you? You’ll do whatever I ask, won’t you?”

Lotor nodded again, harder, hard enough to make himself dizzy. 

“That’s what I thought. All you needed was someone to take you firmly in hand, and now you’ll be good for me.” The hand went to the cuffs around Lotor’s wrists, and then he was falling.

Someone caught him, and that much contact, all at once, after so fucking long… He sobbed, and shook, and tried to bury himself further in this person’s arms. He needed, he craved, so desperately…

A hand stroked his hair. “Shh. You’re alright now. You’ve been so brave and good. I know you’re tired. You can rest now, you’re safe, shh…” 

Lotor was so tired and so relieved and so thankful and he so desperately wanted to be good… He was asleep in moments.  


	6. No, Seriously: What Do You Call Stockholm Syndrome In A Culture That’s Never Heard Of Stockholm?

When he woke later, the first thing he registered was the feeling of warmth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been warm, but he was now, and it felt so good…

He was sore all over, which was to be expected, after-

His mind shied away from thinking about it. After all, this might be a hallucination, or a temporary reprieve, or-

He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t. 

“Shh.” A hand stroked his cheek. “You’re safe now.” 

Lotor relaxed into the touch almost immediately. There was something not quite right about that, but he couldn’t think why. His thoughts were fuzzy and far away, and it was too easy to just give in to this soft, kind touch. 

He was not surprised to see Sendak when he opened his eyes finally. It had been Sendak who had taken him from that horrible, dark place, and it was Sendak who had kept him safe while he slept. While he was vulnerable and weak. 

No one would touch him while he was Sendak’s. 

“You will please me now, won’t you?” Sendak asked. 

Lotor nodded. His throat felt sore, too, with the disuse, and he wasn’t sure he could speak right now. So he nodded, fervently, and hoped that was enough. 

“That’s right. You got a taste of what happens when I am displeased, and now you’ll behave for me.”

Lotor nodded again.

“Say it,” Sendak demanded, his gentle tone abandoned for something firmer. “Say that you’ll behave for me.”

“I-“ It came out as a hoarse whisper, that Lotor himself could barely hear. He tried again, with marginally better results. “I’ll behave for you.”

“Say you’ll be good for me.”

“I’ll be good.” A small, distant, dead part of Lotor cringed at the humiliation; there was no one in the universe he would willingly debase himself for in this manner, and yet- “I swear, it Sire, I’ll be good for you. Please don’t-“ He snapped his jaw shut, trembling. He’d not meant to reveal so much, but he was- There was- 

“Don’t what?” Sendak demanded. 

Lotor cringed away-  _ servile worthless brat _ -in anticipation of Sendak’s anger. “Don’t send me back, Sire,” he whispered. “Please, I'll be good for you. Do whatever you want with me, just don’t send me back, please, please-“

Sendak forced his chin up. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. If I choose, you will go back to the Druids willingly, and thank me for the opportunity. You are not some prized concubine, to be paraded about as a jewel on a powerful man’s arm, petted and indulged and pampered. You are a slave, valuable only for the blood that runs in your veins. How humiliated would your father be if he could see you now? Sniveling brat, you should have been smothered in your cradle.  _ That _ would have been an act of mercy. 

“Killing you now would be an act of mercy, but not one you deserve. Instead, you will serve as a reminder of what happens to those who betray the Empire. Perhaps I’ll have you kneel by my throne, displayed to the universe, as an example. After all, I own you; I can do whatever I want with you,  _ slave _ . Now, prove to me that there’s still some use left in you.”

Once, long ago, in another lifetime, Lotor would have fought back against the tirade with biting insults of his own. Now, he could only tremble and shrink away.  _ Sendak was right. _

He caught a glimpse of the bulge in the front of Sendak’s pants. Maybe Sendak would...would be pleased with him, after. Maybe he wouldn’t do all those horrible things he said he might do. Maybe he wouldn’t send him back to the Druids. 

His legs trembled as he spread them, but what choice did he have? Sendak could take whatever he wanted, whether it was offered freely or not. Surely this was the easiest way. 

“You’re learning,” Sendak said. “They always said you were smart.”

He had been, once, but a smart man would have gotten himself out of this already. A smart man wouldn’t feel like this. A smart man wouldn’t have let himself be torn apart by a few words. 

Sendak didn’t bother to do more than free his cock before he was pressing it into Lotor. 

Lotor felt it, distantly, like just about everything else, like it was happening to someone else.

Sendak finished quickly. Perhaps he’d refrained from touching himself while Lotor was...away. 

Lotor cried, not bothering to stifle the sobs that wracked his frame. He wasn’t sure why he was crying; Sendak hadn’t been rough enough for it to hurt, really, and it wasn’t- It wasn’t sadness, or the realization of what he was. It wasn’t fear, or anger, or anything he could name. 

When Sendak pulled out, he flopped over next to Lotor, and pulled Lotor unto his side so that they were facing each other. 

Sendak used one thumb -the organic one -to brush away Lotor’s tears. “You are beautiful like this. You’re only beautiful when you’re crying or on my cock. Do you remember how proud you used to be? And now you are reduced to this, spreading your legs for me so I don’t discard you like so much trash.” 

Lotor only cried harder, the soft touches and the compliments and the terrible humiliation confusing and frightening and too much like what he really wanted.


	7. Knife To Meet You

It didn’t last. Lotor’s spine grew back, little by little, as he managed to piece himself back together as best as he could. 

It was hard. He threw up most days for no reason other than that thinking too hard made him ill. As a result, he was losing mass rapidly, his hard-earned muscle melting off him, leaving him little more than skin and bones.

It would have been difficult to kill Sendak before, but now it was practically impossible.

It was easier most days just to do as Sendak wanted, and hope that Sendak didn’t decide a punishment was in order. Sometimes, Lotor was punished simply because Sendak felt that had had been too long since the last time.

Most of these punishments were not severe. Exiling him from the Imperial Suite for a night, forcing him to curl up in the room he’d been in at first. Forcing him to choke on Sendak’s cock. Beatings. 

It wasn’t so bad, most of the time. There was a part of him -growing a little everyday -that rebelled against such treatment, but he submitted to it. There was no other option, he knew. It was this or the Druids. 

He shied away from the thought, as he always did. 

He spent most of his days lounging on the bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Sendak to return from his duties. Sometimes he returned to the Suite for lunch, but for the most part, Lotor only saw him in the mornings and evenings. 

Lotor stared at the ceiling and thought of nothing. There was a dull roar in the back of his mind, a voice telling him to  _ get up and fight, find a way, this is not the end -  _ but he ignored that. Ignored everything. 

He found a knife one day, on accident. The hilt was damaged, but the blade was in good shape. It was short, but ultimately, he wouldn’t need a long knife to kill Sendak. Just had to puncture a main artery in his throat, and it would be over. 

Lotor would be free.

The idea made his vision black out with panic. He dropped the knife, put it back exactly as he had found it, and hoped Sendak wouldn’t find out. 

* * *

His thoughts kept returning to the knife, as much as he tried to forget about it. 

He didn’t have to use it to kill Sendak. It would be easy enough to turn in on himself, slit his wrists or slash his throat. Deprive Sendak of his slave. 

Even if Lotor escaped someday, somehow, he’d never escape what Sendak had done to him. He knew that. 

Not as long as he lived. 

Maybe death was a sort of victory, too. It removed him from Sendak, from the pain and humiliation, from the rape and torment. 

It had taken too long to even admit to himself that’s what it was: rape. Maybe he spread his legs when Sendak asked -demanded -but that’s because he had no choice. Sendak would take what he wanted, one way or another, but if he had to fight Lotor, he’d punish him, too. 

Lotor, before, could never have imagined using another living creature in this way. Or, he could have -he knew what happened to slaves -but he never had, himself. Never would have. It was only the fact that he was the Emperor’s son that kept him from the slave markets or mines or arenas. 

It wasn’t compassion that kept him from owning a slave, but rather the knowledge that, if circumstances were only slightly different, he would be the one on the slave block. It was so easy to see his fate in the eyes of the slaves.

He’d freed as many as he could without drawing attention to himself. He’d intended to end the practice as soon as he was Emperor. 

Now, there was only this: Sendak, the ceiling, fantasies of that wretched knife.


	8. Underestimation

When Sendak beckoned Lotor to stand between his knees, Lotor thought he knew what he was in for. He didn’t like choking on Sendak’s cock, but his saliva provided some lubrication if Sendak meant to fuck him after. If not, then Sendak would finish in his mouth and it would be over for the night. Either way, not nearly the worst thing he'd been through. 

“Turn around,” Sendak ordered, instead of pushing Lotor to his knees. 

Lotor hesitated, just slightly, before complying. His instincts screamed at him for turning his back on -what was Sendak to him now? It didn’t matter. 

One claw traced over the lash-marks Lotor carried, and he trembled, but restrained himself from making any other movements.

“It should have been me holding that whip,” Sendak said. “I know you could have taken all fifty. The fool who whipped you didn’t even break skin on the first four strokes, but your own father didn’t think you could take it like a real Galra could. I saw how mortified you were when he sentenced you to only thirty-five lashes. Any cadet could take that without a sound. 

“You only screamed once, on the first one, out of surprise, I thought. Is that so?” 

Lotor nodded, just once, his skin crawling, but knowing better than to try to get away. 

“But I saw you lift your jaw and set your shoulders. You could have taken all fifty, and you would have done so pridefully. I admired you for so long because of that.”

Lotor was trembling so hard now that he felt Sendak’s claw catch on the raised line of one of his scars, scoring the skin open. He hated this as much as he craved it.

“But now… Now I have seen just how easy it is to tear you apart completely. A few kind words, a gentle touch, and you  _ break _ .” He clipped the cuffs on Lotor’s wrists together behind his back, just another way to emphasize Lotor’s powerlessness. 

Without warning, Sendak pulled him backwards into Sendak’s lap, arranging him so that Lotor’s legs were slung over Sendak’s knees, exposing him completely. 

It was unexpected. Sendak’s wants were fairly straightforward and uncreative. 

The unfamiliarity made a swell of panic go through him. He didn’t know what Sendak expected of him, didn’t know how to please him like this. 

“My peak has ended,” Sendak said, which meant he’d be less interested in sex now. Lotor couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. “So I decided it was time to focus on you.”

Definitely not a good thing. Sendak’s tech arm pinned him to Sendak’s chest, like a safety harness, and then Sendak’s other hand was between his legs, stroking gently up his thighs, pressing into the sensitive area just behind his cock, thumbing too softly at his ridges…

It was maddening. Lotor had finished the low point in his cycle over a year before the start of his captivity here, which meant he was due for a peak. His cycles had always been unpredictable, though, and the stress of this was enough to put it off, but now… 

One did not become completely disinterested in sex during a low point, but it certainly didn’t feel like this.

It had been...a while since Sendak had bothered trying to arouse Lotor, and usually he didn’t do it with such single minded focus. 

It felt good. 

Lotor wanted to cry; it felt good. He was the only person who could reliably get himself off, and even before all this, it had been too long since someone had bothered trying.

By the time Sendak wrapped his hand around Lotor’s cock, it only took a few strokes for Lotor to cum.

It wasn’t pleasurable to be here like this, but he couldn’t fight against the physical sensations. It was too much, and it felt too good, and Sendak even stroked him through the aftershocks, just the way he liked…

Only Sendak didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down, as Lotor began whining and squirming. He’d been wrong before;  _ this _ was too much, too soon.

“St- stop,” he managed finally, in between gasping for breath against the pain-pleasure torment. “Please, Sire, please…”

Sendak did no such thing. He sank his teeth into the nape of Lotor’s neck, where a male Galra might bite a female during attempted procreation, in order to hold her still. 

That made Lotor squirm harder, humiliation and hot desire coursing through him in equal measure. He didn’t want this, couldn’t take anymore of it, and yet-

He sobbed through his next orgasm, hands twisting in their restraints, trying to just hold on to  _ something _ . It was like a part of himself had been ripped out of him with the orgasm, wringing him out, leaving him empty. 

He felt Sendak’s chest rumble as he spoke, but the words didn’t make sense to him. Whatever Sendak said didn’t matter; he hadn’t stopped yet, and Lotor wanted so desperately to be anywhere but here, but even his mind was trapped here, tethered by the pleasure-pain-agony of overwhelming and conflicting sensations. 

When he couldn’t even sob anymore, he went limp. There was no point in fighting; Sendak would wring him dry if he wanted, and nothing Lotor could do would change that.

He was not quite connected to his body anymore, transcended to someplace where he still felt everything but it no longer mattered. It simply was.

Tears still streaked down his face, but he only managed a small whine when Sendak moved his other hand down between his legs, too, reaching further back and pressing firmly against Lotor’s entrance. 

It was something Sendak never did. It was largely unnecessary, to Sendak’s mind, and Lotor had long since stopped resenting that. 

His cock had gone soft after the second orgasm, but now, due to the continued stimulation, it was valiantly trying to rise again, despite how painful and raw that was. 

Lotor’s cock twitched when Sendak managed to press a finger into him. The cold metal of Sendak’s prosthetic was a shock to his system, but almost a welcome one, given how hot he felt. 

It was happening to someone else, not Prince Lotor. Someone or something else - _ servile worthless brat _ -who was made to take this kind of abuse. Who could handle this pleasure-that-was-not. 

Sendak had two fingers in him now, pressing and massaging all the soft, vulnerable places inside him. It was like being electrocuted. He was too weak for his contractures to actually get him anywhere, too weak for his kicks and flails to actually hurt Sendak.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

Sendak’s thumb was pressed cruelly against the area just behind his cock, right over where his internal genitalia were, and suddenly, he couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t-

He was distantly aware of someone screaming, and it took too long for him to realize that those pathetic noises were coming from his mouth, uncontrolled and undignified.

Not that he’d had any dignity left. 

He came again when Sendak slipped two more fingers in, far too much at once, and he was being torn apart, not just physically but mentally,  _ emotionally _ , as well. 

The hand on his cock retreated and stroked down the outside of his thighs, painting him with his own cum in an almost soothing gesture.

“Once more,” Sendak crooned. 

“No,” Lotor pleaded. He hadn’t stopped crying, and it had made his voice thick and broken. “No, no, no, I can’t, please-“

“Shh,” Sendak said. He removed his hand from Lotor’s ass and picked him up, too gently, before arranging his enervated, pliant body on the bed. “You can, because I say you can.”

Sendak rarely fucked him face-to-face; Lotor wasn’t sure how he felt about this development. In fact, he wasn’t sure how he felt about anything, except tired and wrung out. 

He could only make small, protesting whines as Sendak pressed in finally, could only pant as Sendak fucked him roughly, far too roughly, for him to handle. 

Sendak reached down between them when his thrusts became more erratic, and stroked Lotor’s cock.

He’d never cum dry before, and it  _ burned _ , every nerve in his body lighting up with this excruciating excess. 

And then everything just...went black, as if his body had given up functioning, and his thoughts were finally quiet. 


	9. In Which I Continue To Torture My Favorite Boy

He woke up sore. Not surprising; even during his first peak after sexual maturation, he hadn’t been able to force four consecutive orgasms out of himself in one evening. 

Now that he was older, not in that phase of his cycle, and unintentionally starved skinny… Well. 

He couldn’t tell how long he’d slept, but he let his eyes flutter shut again, too weary to keep them open. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him in the first place. Perhaps his own physical discomfort. 

He was slapped across the face, which, on instinct and reflex alone, had him sitting up and snarling, baring his teeth. How  _ dare- _

He saw Sendak, and he shrunk away, shaking at the thought of the punishment that rebellion would incur. 

“Have you been starving yourself?”

Lotor blinked slowly. “N-no,” he tried.

“And yet you’re all skin and bones now. You were never a formidable opponent, but now…” One of Sendak’s hands almost spanned the width of his rib cage, pressing him back down into the bed, pinning him there like some sort of rare specimen. “Are you trying to deprive me of what is rightfully mine?”

“No,” Lotor said again.

Sendak shoved two fingers past his lips, and Lotor gagged, and kept gagging, as Sendak turned them so that he could crook his fingers and touch the top of Lotor’s mouth. 

He tapped his claws against the back of Lotor’s teeth. Lotor’s vision whited out with the shock of it, like the very nerves of his teeth had been exposed to intense cold. 

“So. You haven’t been starving yourself, but you have been bringing everything back up when no one’s watching. Is that so?”

With Sendak’s fingers still in his mouth, he couldn’t do much more than whine. 

“The Druids were wondering why it’s taking you so long to reach your peak. I can smell it on you, and I had to reassure them that you weren’t completely dysfunctional. Though I did have my doubts, until last night, anyway. But I suppose if you’ve been starving yourself, then it’s to be expected. 

“This won’t be very pleasant for you, but you must understand, I will take proper care of what’s mine. I haven’t waited this long to have you under me, only for you to waste away into nothing.” 

Two guards and a Druid entered the room. Lotor’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Whatever Sendak was planning, he was probably right: it wouldn’t be very pleasant. 

In fact, it was likely to be very unpleasant. 

Sendak clipped the cuffs on his wrists to the bedposts, then stood and retreated to the corner. 

Lotor tugged on the cuffs, but he already knew they wouldn’t give. He had to try, though. 

“I don’t like having to do this,” Sendak said, and Lotor could no longer tell if he actually meant it or not, “but it’s not as if you’ve left me any other option.” Then he nodded to the Druid and the guards. 

The first guard stepped forward and, too quickly for Lotor to react, jabbed a needle into his arm.

The needle didn’t bother him; in fact, he barely registered it. 

Whatever was in the injection burned through his veins. He struggled, but it was already inside him, and there was no getting away from it. 

And then he noticed that he simply… couldn’t struggle anymore. His limbs were too heavy for him to move.

They had paralyzed him? What were they going to do to him? 

He swallowed his rising panic. He’d endure this, because he had no other option. He’d endure this, and when the time was right, he’d-

The pair of guards set about prying his mouth open. They hadn’t waited quite long enough, and he bit one, hard enough that blood flooded his mouth. 

It turned his stomach, but it still pleased him on some level. It had been too long since he was last able to rebel in even a small way. 

“You’ll pay for that,” Sendak said casually. 

Lotor knew that; he didn’t -couldn’t -care. 

Something was shoved between his teeth, a gag designed to keep him from closing his mouth. He still had the strength to growl, and he did, but it sounded weak even to him, and Sendak smiled indulgently, the way an adult might smile at their child’s first attempt at a growl. 

Then the guards hoisted him up a little, so that he was propped up against the pillows. He stayed exactly where they left him, and he hated that even this was out of his control now. 

Then the Druid approached.

Lotor used to hate the anonymous masks of the Druids, but now he was almost grateful. The mask removed personhood, in some way, and now it was only an object -a machine -that treated him in such a degrading fashion. He wouldn’t have to accept that there was a real person under there, wouldn’t have to look into someone’s eyes as they did...whatever they were going to do. 

Anyway, this was all Sendak’s fault. He looked at Sendak, pleaded with his eyes, but Sendak only crossed his arms.

The Druid unrolled a length of clear tubing, and Lotor’s stomach sank. 

He knew, now, and it was more horrible than not knowing, and he couldn’t even struggle against it, couldn’t plead for it to stop, couldn’t-

All he could do was take it. 

The Druid didn’t speak as they began forcing the tubing into his mouth and down his throat. They rarely spoke to begin with, but he was glad of it now.

If he could have laughed, hysterical laughter would have bubbled up from his chest. What did one speak about when you force-fed someone? Did one make small talk? Did one-?

He gagged on the tubing, but the Druid forced it down anyway, and this was, somehow, worse than any other violation he’d endured. The rape was bad enough, but he could square it in his mind. It pleased Sendak, so it was worth it. It made Sendak leave him alone, even just for a few minutes. It got him close to Sendak, so it might reveal on opportunity…

None of those things were true now. He could feel Sendak’s eyes on him, the tube reaching down inside him, and the burning humiliation. The helplessness. But nothing else. 

Just when it seemed like it would never end, the Druid stopped shoving the tubing down. 

Lotor’s relief lasted a bare instant.

The free end of the tubing had a funnel attached to it, and the Druid had one of the guards hold it, and then they were pouring some kind of liquid down it.

It moved awfully slowly, and Lotor could only watch in horror as it crept down the tubing. He wouldn’t have let that nondescript gray sludge anywhere near him in ordinary circumstances, but now it was going inside him, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

His sole consolation was that at least he wouldn’t have to  _ taste _ it. 

It finally reached his stomach, and he could tell immediately that they were going to give him much more than he could actually handle at one time. It was cold, too, and sat like cement in his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable and-

And it just  _ kept coming _ . 

His stomach churned, and it was only by force of will that he kept himself from vomiting. With the tube and gag in, he’d probably aspirate at least some of his own vomit, and the consequential aspiration pneumonia would only weaken him further. 

Things were already bad, but they could be much worse. 

Finally, the container with the gray sludge was empty, and the Druid made to remove the tubing; Lotor closed his eyes and braced himself. It was surely going to be much more unpleasant coming out than it had been going in. 

“Leave it,” Sendak said. 

Lotor wanted to scream. He was just going to leave him like this? He felt every damn inch of the damned tubing as it snaked from his mouth to his stomach, constantly, and it was already unbearable. How long did Sendak mean to leave him like this? 

He didn’t even notice the guards leaving behind the Druid, didn’t notice Sendak crossing the room and sitting next to him. 

Sendak stroked his hair back from his face. “I know it’s unpleasant, but it’s for your own good. It wouldn’t even be necessary if you had taken better care of yourself.” Sendak wiped his face, and he realized he’d been crying. Was still crying. 

“I’ll be back this evening, as usual,” Sendak said, before standing. 

_ No!  _ Sendak couldn’t! 

Of course Sendak could, and he did, and there was nothing Lotor could do about it. 


	10. That’s Abuse, Babe!

The only word Lotor could use to describe himself after that was  _ docile _ . He could barely even think of himself as a person.

The voices in his head called him other things, worse than whatever Sendak called him. 

So he got down on his knees and begged Sendak to quiet those voices. 

Sendak wasn’t in his peak anymore, but apparently having Lotor, his lifelong rival and object of obsession, begging for his cock really got him going.       

Lotor still thought about the knife. It was impossible not to, because Sendak had set it out in plain sight, like he was taunting Lotor with the possibility of using it.

They both knew he wouldn't. 

But it was there, it was so close, he just had to walk over, and-

_ Then do it! Oh, you can’t? Pathetic weakling.  _

When he threw up now, he was careful to do it on an empty stomach, so Sendak wouldn’t have to force-feed him again. Other than the black room, that had been the worst thing Sendak had done to him, and he-

He’d do anything to prevent it happening again. 

Absolutely anything. 

Sendak had won. It was simple as that. 

He managed to put some weight on, but it wasn’t anything like Before. It simply made him soft in all the wrong places.

He didn’t miss his once-fit physique. He didn’t have room for those kinds of feelings anymore. Life had started the moment Sendak lit the flame, and everything else was someone else’s life. Someone else’s memories. Someone else’s body. 

He avoided looking in the mirror, anyway. He knew he must look awful, and he’d never really cared about his appearance Before, but this was different. He didn’t need a face to attach to his misery. 

He had no idea how long he’d been here. A day or a year or a millennium. It didn’t matter; he’d be here forever, and there was no point in counting something infinite. 

The familiar roil of his peak was building, finally, and Before, it had always been easy to ignore. It was a need, but not a need in the same way that food or sleep was a need. As long as he was sufficiently distracted and occupied, it didn’t bother him, and even if he couldn’t busy himself enough, it was never debilitating.

Now, though, with nothing else to do but listen to the voices of his failures… 

Sendak made him cum at least twice most evenings and once more in the morning, and he seemed to enjoy wrecking Lotor. 

_ Enjoyable _ was not the word Lotor would use to describe it, but it was something. He had Sendak’s attention, his soft touches, sometimes his nice words.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but maybe it was what he needed. It fulfilled something Lotor had neglected his entire life.

He knew it wasn’t love. But, sometimes, after, when Sendak murmured about how good he’d been, and those shivers of guilty pleasure rolled through him, he could almost believe it was. 


	11. Misplaced Maternal Affection+ No Regard For Scientific Ethics= Whatever This Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, in which Haggar is gonna have grandchildren, by any means necessary.  
> There’s no non-skeevy way to describe what happens in this chapter. But, look, man, you gotta get the genetic material to make clones somehow

Sendak was a possessive lover, something Lotor had not taken for granted. After all, if Sendak wanted to, he could whore Lotor out to whomever his wished, and Lotor would have no say in the matter. 

He knew how Sendak treated him, and it was...predictable. He had likes and dislikes, and Lotor knew those. He didn’t have to guess.

He wouldn’t have that luxury with anyone else.

Which was why he balked when Sendak took him out of the Suite one morning. It was unusual, and anyway, it had been a while since Lotor left the Suite. The collar around his neck immobilized him completely if he tried to leave without Sendak’s permission, something he’d found out the hard way, early on. 

He stayed close to Sendak. He was naked, vulnerable, and only Sendak could protect him. 

Perhaps Sendak was doing this to keep him off-balance. Perhaps Sendak thought he’d become complacent. It had been some time since Lotor’s last punishment. Maybe Sendak intended to make him kneel at the foot of his throne after all, like he’d threatened before. 

None of these thoughts engendered a response in Lotor. What would be, would be. It was out of his control, like everything else. Sendak would decide, and Lotor would submit; that's how it worked. 

Despite that, Lotor froze in the doorway when he saw where Sendak had brought him.

An interrogation chamber, complete with table and restraints and a Druid. 

He looked up at Sendak, knowing that his fear was written all over his face. He was shaking, and he opened his mouth to beg.

Sendak put a hand on the back of Lotor’s neck. “You will behave,” he said firmly. 

Lotor whined. 

“You _ will _ be good, or there will be consequences.”

Lotor was still shaking, but he nodded. 

“I know you can do it, because this will please me, and you want to please me, don’t you?”

Lotor nodded again. The fear and panic was still there, but so was the need to please Sendak. To earn those sweet words that broke him apart. 

“Don’t fight it,” Sendak said. “They want to make you feel good.”

Lotor couldn’t remember the last time he felt good. Didn’t know what it would be like. Didn’t know if he wanted it. 

But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was about pleasing Sendak. 

He didn’t fight the guards that dragged him onto the table, though every instinct screamed at him to do  _ something _ .

He closed his eyes as they strapped him down, trying and failing to ignore them, to block it all out. 

He didn’t even struggle against the restraints, even though his muscles twitched with the effort of not thrashing about and trying to free himself. 

The Druid didn’t speak as they began setting up...whatever it was. He still didn’t know his purpose here. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want it to happen. 

It was far too late for him to believe that this was all a dream, but maybe just this part… Maybe  _ this _ wasn’t real. 

He had no idea if this was the same Druid who had force-fed him, and ultimately, it didn’t matter; they were basically interchangeable, just faceless cogs in Haggar’s machine. 

Once, he would have wondered what the purpose of this was. Sendak was possessive; he rarely let others even  _ look _ at Lotor, much less whatever this was. 

But that was Before, and if Sendak wanted him here, then-

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when something was unceremoniously shoved against his entrance. 

He was too tense to allow it to slide in smoothly, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Druid.

He clenched his eyes shut tighter and tried to pretend to be anywhere but here. 

It was useless; the object finally slid home, pressing uncomfortably so far up Lotor’s ass he could practically feel it in his throat. 

He shifted as much as he could -not much; his limbs were stretched almost to the point of pain -in order to find a more comfortable position. 

It didn’t help. If anything, it made matters far worse. 

It was one thing to be hard in front of Sendak, especially when Sendak was also hard, but it was something else entirely to be hard in front of the impersonal, anonymous Druid. 

Warning lights were flashing in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t access them, couldn’t say why this might be so much worse than it already seemed. 

He decided to keep his eyes shut; it would be easier to block things out that way.

That resolution lasted until the device was turned on; Lotor’s eyes flew open at the unexpected vibrations that coursed through his body, like an engine’s hum, only a thousand times stronger, and right in the places that made his toes curl, made him see stars. 

He was coming before he was even fully hard, something he hadn’t thought possible, something that made every nerve in his body light up with raw pleasure so powerful it only registered as  _ pain _ ...

He barely registered the Druid slipping something over his sensitive cock; it wasn’t easy, exactly, because he was thrashing hard against the restraints, uncontrollably and completely unable to stop.

The pain of rubbing his wrists and ankles raw detracted nothing from the agonizing pleasure the -the vibrator, he supposed, distantly -inflicted on him. If anything, the contrast made him more desperate, more mindless, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted more: for this to stop, or for it to continue.

What he wanted didn’t matter. He could only respond, continue struggling futilely, as the device wrung another orgasm out of him.

He had thought the black room was the worst thing they could do to him. Now he wasn’t so sure. 

This had to end eventually, didn’t it? Eventually his heart would give out, eventually his body would stop responding, eventually  his nerves would be so desensitized they wouldn’t register anything…

But even that didn’t mean they would stop. They could just keep picking at him, tearing open old wounds, until there was nothing left-

Something in his mind  _ snapped _ , and he experienced the first moment of real clarity he’d had since the black room. 

He knew, very suddenly, why Sendak and the Druids had been so interested in his peak. Why he was here. What they were going to do with him. 

The purpose of a male Galra’s cycle was to conserve energy by only producing high-quality semen when all factors were in good alignment: plentiful resources, safe environments, good mental and physical state…

Which was not to say that a male Galra couldn’t reproduce outside of his peak, only that it was much less likely. 

These facts led Lotor to one unnerving conclusion: someone, somewhere, had an intense interest in his genetic material. There were a number of possibilities as for  _ why _ : cloning, forcibly continuing Zarkon’s line…

This last possibility seemed the most likely. After all, what had Sendak said? He was “valuable only for the blood that ran in his veins”? 

He was  _ not _ some animal to be bred! 

He snarled at the Druid, renewing his efforts to break free. He was ten thousand years old, and if he hadn’t produced issue by now, there was a reason, and that reason was that he hadn’t wanted to put any child in that position, and he wasn't about to let anyone start now. 

It was probably too late; while he had been thinking, the device had wrung another excruciating orgasm out of him, and whatever was on his cock was probably some sort of collection device. Which meant they surely had a more than sufficient sample for whatever they planned. 

Suddenly a needle was jabbed into his arm, and his veins burned with the paralytic agent. 

“No!” He couldn’t help but shout, frustration and pain and raw anger bleeding into the word. “No! You can’t do this to me! I won’t-!” 

The paralytic overcame his efforts to fight it all at once. He could still  _ feel _ everything: the rawness of his pinned-down joints, the vibrations coursing through him, the agony of every forced orgasm. There was just nothing he could do, which made it so much worse. 

They forced him to take it, and they forced him to enjoy it; he couldn’t deny the rush of endorphins that came with every orgasm, and it did feel good. So good, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

That part didn’t last long, but it was better than everything else, and he found himself craving that moment of release, that moment when all the pain and fear and anger he felt melted into something so intense it was beyond pleasure…

He lost track of how many orgasms they forced from him, lost so completely in the cycle of release-oversensitivity-agony; he didn’t even notice when it stopped. 


	12. Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

When he woke up, the cuffs that had been on his wrists and ankles had been replaced by thick bandages. It took him a moment to remember why, and when he did, he was instantly, incandescently, angry. 

Sendak was already awake, looking at him, and Lotor snarled, lunging for his throat. “I’ll kill you!” He swore, vicious and unhinged. “How fucking dare you!” 

It didn’t take any effort on Sendak’s part to pin Lotor down on the bed. Lotor still struggled, though he knew, in the back of his mind, that it was useless. That wasn’t the point. 

“I suppose you aren’t completely broken after all. What could possibly have triggered this outburst? After I have been so kind to you?” 

Lotor couldn’t tell if Sendak was amused or angry, and that meant only bad things, as far as he was concerned. But he couldn’t- He’d already played his hand; he couldn’t back down now and pretend he hadn’t acted out. 

“You have no right to force children from me. None. I may be your slave, but you can’t-“

“I can,” Sendak said sharply. “If I wanted to. But it was not I who authorized that little experiment. The High Priestess did.”

A sudden burst of hot nausea gripped Lotor, but he swallowed it down. “I’m  _ your _ slave,” he insisted. “She had no right-“

“It does not concern you, and I suggest you watch your tone. Your little outburst has been amusing, but I am becoming weary of it.”

“You might as well be her slave, then! What kind of Emperor lets-“

Sendak’s hand was very suddenly on his throat, constricting his airflow. “I warned you,” he said. “But you just had to keep talking, didn’t you?” He hauled Lotor up by the throat; Lotor kicked and struggled, trying to find a way to take pressure off his throat. He got his hands up to grasp at Sendak’s wrist just as his vision was blurring and darkening.

If Sendak meant to kill him, this would be the kindest way. Then it would be over. It would be an ignominious death, perhaps, but he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore-

Sendak dropped him in a heap on the floor. Lotor gasped for air; his throat ached and his lungs burned, but the air was sweet.

“Pathetic,” Sendak said, turning away. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Lotor realized, all at once, where, exactly, Sendak had dropped him. Right next to the table that held that wretched, beautiful knife. 

It was in his hand before he even thought about it, and out of his hand again before he realized what he meant to do. 

Maybe it was Lotor’s still-trembling hand, maybe it was his physical weakness, maybe it was the damaged hilt of the blade; in the end, it didn’t matter.

Lotor’s throw buried the knife in the wall just to Sendak’s left. 

They both stared at the knife for a long moment; neither of them thought Lotor was still capable of such rebellion. 

And then Sendak turned back to Lotor. 

Lotor wanted to scramble backwards, to get away however he could, like a trapped, injured animal that would gnaw its leg off if it meant survival. 

Only he  _ was _ trapped, truly trapped, and there was no way out of this. There was no limb he could gnaw off, no eleventh hour rescue, no cunning trickery, no distraction.

Instead he squared his shoulders and spoke as calmly as he could. He noticed the raspy tremors in his voice anyway, and he thought for sure that Sendak must, too. “Kill me. I will not be your slave anymore, so kill me or let me go. Kill me or I will do it myself. Kill me, Sendak.”

“Are you so eager to die?”

“Will you make me watch as everything I worked for falls apart? Even you could not be so cruel. Just end it already!”

“Very well. If that’s what you want, I suppose I can’t deny you.”

Lotor’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t thought Sendak would agree so easily. 

Sendak called the sentries in, and Lotor numbly let them drag him to his feet. 

_ He didn’t want to die.  _

He had too much left to do, too much he wanted to see and learn and experience. But Sendak would inevitably kill him anyway, when he tired of him, and he’d be in the same spot he was now, only it would be worse, because Sendak would have succeeded in stripping out every part of him that made him himself. 

The thing Sendak would be killing then would be nothing more than a shell. At least this way, he got to die himself, reasonably whole, reasonably sane. 

He was taken to an execution chamber -high-enough ranking prisoners got to die fighting, but he would not be afforded that honor -and then promptly blindfolded. His wrists were bound together and then secured over his head, leaving him stretched out and vulnerable.

He wondered how Sendak meant to kill him. Eviscerate him? That would be a slow, painful death. Slitting his throat would be kinder, but he wasn’t sure that Sendak was in a merciful mood. He wasn’t sure Sendak had ever once been truly merciful. He wasn’t even sure if Sendak knew the meaning of the word. 

He would have liked to have loved someone, just once, just for a second, before he died. That was the thing he regretted the most. It would have been so incredibly dangerous for him to love someone, but he-

“First, I think we should complete the set,” Sendak said from behind him, his claws running over the scars on Lotor’s back. “And you can take nineteen lashes, can’t you?”

Lotor said nothing. He heard the soft whir of the camera drones that would be recording this. Why wouldn’t Sendak want to broadcast Lotor’s execution across the galaxy? 

He wondered if his generals would see it. Would they feel guilty? Would they regret that they hadn’t...done something? 

Would Voltron see it? Would they regret any of their actions if they did? He doubted it; they had tried to send him to his death once. Or maybe they hadn’t known that his father would have tortured him to death. 

He jerked at the first lash across his back. The whip was weighted at the end, and it scored his flesh open easily. 

His pain tolerance had only grown since the first time he’d been through this, and he hadn’t cried out then -except on the first lash, which had taken him by surprise -so he wasn’t about to now. 

He felt his own blood flow freely down his back. It reminded him that he was still alive. This would be the last thing he experienced; of all the things it had to be…

He would have liked to die someplace beautiful and peaceful. Under the stars, or maybe just as dawn broke on some distant planet that had never known the Galra.

He would have liked to have someone with him. Just so he wasn’t alone…

His resolution to not make a sound lasted until the tenth lash; he sobbed when it came down, and once the floodgates were open, he couldn’t stop. 

He cried for every cruelty that had been visited upon him, every misery, every injustice, every moment of loneliness and despair and never being good  _ enough _ ...

He was still sobbing when Sendak finished with the whip. 

“A child could take that silently,” Sendak hissed. “How weak are you?”

Lotor didn’t answer; the words wouldn’t come to him, and he wished, desperately, that it was anyone but Sendak with him now. Even his father would have been better. 

“Any last words?” Sendak was closer now, close enough that Lotor could feel his body heat.

Lotor shook his head. It didn’t matter. In a thousand years, he wouldn’t even be a black mark in the history of the Galra. He’d be forgotten completely, all his accomplishments eroded to nothing. Why bother saying anything?

The muzzle of a blaster was pressed to the back of his head.

It wouldn’t hurt; he’d be dead long before his brain could possibly hope to register anything. He clenched his eyes shut tight behind the blindfold, bracing himself. It would be over soon, and then he’d be at peace. He could rest, finally, and all this would be behind him. 

He heard Sendak flick the safety off, and then-

_ Click _ . 

Lotor flinched, but nothing happened.

_ Nothing happened _ . Had the blaster jammed, or was it low on power, or-?

Sendak laughed, sinister and cruel and abrasive. “Did you really think it would be that easy?” 


	13. Sometimes...Things That Give Hope...Are Worse

Black, cold, overwhelming dread made Lotor unaware of everything else. He could not breathe, much less think, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, like it, too, wished desperately and hopelessly for escape. 

They had moved him, maybe; fuzzy awareness of being hauled somewhere filtered in, but. 

The sodden blindfold was ripped away, and he shrank back, a visceral reaction to the blinding, incapacitating lights. 

White lights were almost never used on board Galra ships. Being primarily nocturnal creatures…

He expected his eyes to adjust momentarily. He had survived weeks on the castle-ship, after all, with its white, bright lights.

These were worse. Far worse. 

His eyes watered as he fought to look up, take in the room. 

The last of the sentries had left, and he was alone. Suspended once more from his wrists, with his arms wrenched behind his back, in such a way that, should he fail to hold himself up, all his weight would be on his shoulder sockets. 

The room itself was white, floor and ceiling and walls, reflecting all of that light back.

He shut his eyes again, but even with them screwed as tightly shut as possible, light still seeped through, bright as day.

The room was cold. It might have been bearable, had he even a scrap of clothing, but he had nothing. 

He was up on his toes, again, like before, and it was only a matter of time before the muscles of his calves simply couldn’t hold him up anymore. At that point, he would be unable to hold himself up anymore, and his shoulders would be dislocated. 

It would be...uncomfortable. To say the least. He wouldn’t have enough freedom to pop them back in, so he would just have to hang there, in agony, until…

Until what? 

Would Sendak just simply leave him here? Dehydration would kill him, most likely, but that would be days away, and his eyes already burned.

Some of his expeditions had led him to planets with high, snow-capped peaks, and he was aware of the phenomena of snow-blindness. That was a temporary condition, most of the time, provided measures were taken.

He wasn’t even sure if this was the same thing, but he did know he almost certainly was not going to get treatment for it. If Sendak didn’t mean for him to die here, if he meant to keep Lotor longer, he didn’t need to him be able to  _ see _ . 

Blood was still dripping down his back; it cooled too quickly, leaving him sticky and shivering.

There was nothing to do but endure. 

* * *

His vision had completely whited out at some point, either from damage to the retinas or from overstimulation of the optic nerve. 

Which was why he was somewhat surprised, upon looking up when the door opened, to actually see something.  _ Anything _ . 

The fact that it was Allura, in full battle gear… 

He felt the first, faint spark of hope, and he knew he should be wary, but-

“ _ Allura _ ,” he breathed, and it was hard, because he could barely remember how to talk. It had been  _ so long... _

She took her helmet off and tucked it under one arm. “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. She did not sound surprised; in fact, she sounded bored, like she hadn’t had to fight through an entire ship’s worth of sentries to get here. 

Lotor didn’t care. She was here, however she’d gotten here, and that meant a  _ chance _ , and that was so much more than he’d had in such a long goddamn time. 

“I would have thought you would have twisted the situation to your advantage by now,” she continued. Then she snorted. “But I suppose I’ve overestimated you. Just like everyone else.”

“Allura?” He was confused; why was she taking so long to free him? Shouldn’t they hurry and get out of here? She could say whatever she needed to say later-

“I’d compare you to your father, but he was strong, wasn’t he? Zarkon actually managed to get things done, however reprehensible they were. He made a mark on the universe. What have you done?”

“Please,” he whispered. “Please just-“

“Oh, you’re begging now? Pathetic. It's just as well Sendak became the emperor. At least he’s a worthy adversary. There’s no honor in crushing someone as…” She looked him up and down. “... _ wretched _ as you are.” 

She stepped a little closer. “And to think,” she said with a laugh, “I used to think I could even love you. But how could anyone love you now?”

“ _ Allura _ ,” he pleaded, unable to contain his ragged sobs. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“You certainly are,” she said, disgusted. Then she turned.

“No!” He screamed. “No! Don’t leave me here! Allura, don’t-“

She was gone, the door slamming shut behind her. 

He let his head fall forward, too tired and defeated now to do anything but let his defeated sobs wrack his body.

* * *

He didn’t sleep. Between his position and the lights, there was no way he could. It required a certain amount of concentration to hold himself upright, especially when his calves began to cramp and spasm, and the lights wreaked havoc on his circadian rhythm. 

All he could see was a white blur, even when his eyes were closed.

He didn’t care about that. He just wanted to sleep. He’d do anything just to sleep for a  _ minute _ . 

His thoughts were consumed by the need, so he didn’t notice the door opening again. 

He didn’t even notice another person until a warm hand was pressed to his cheek.

“Oh, my son,” said a sad female voice. 

He looked up and it took a minute of rapid blinking to clear his vision enough.

She was beautiful, just as he’d always imagined her.

“Mother,” he whispered. They never gave him water, either, so he was parched. But he’d rather be allowed to sleep. 

“Lotor, my son, what have they done to you?”

He couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to tell her all the terrible, shameful things they’d done to him. So he only shook his head. 

“What must you have done to deserve this treatment?” She continued. 

_ Deserve _ ? “Mother, I-“

“Everything happens to a reason, Lotor, so if you’re being punished, you must have done something to deserve it,” she said, matter-of-fact. “What would your father say, to see you taking this so poorly?”

What could he possibly say to that? “Mother?”

She paced away, turning her back to him. “Actually,” she said, and her voice changed somehow, “I don’t think I want to be your mother after all. I think I prefer it like this. Then I won’t have to suffer the shame you bring me.”

She turned back, and Lotor just...froze.

She’d turned into the witch, and he always knew, in the back of his mind, that Honerva and Haggar were one in the same, but he’d avoided thinking about it.

Until she stood here, in front of him. 

“No,” he whispered. Denial was the only thing left to him. “No!”

She laughed, and laughed, and laughed. 


	14. That Witch Is Crazy

Lotor knew that the witch was powerful and dangerous, but he hadn’t realized her abilities encompassed  _ this _ . 

Hadn’t realized that she would do this, even if she could. 

Evidentially she could; the proof was right in front of him. 

“Father,” he whispered, unsure what else to say. What else there was to say. 

It should be impossible; Lotor remembered killing his father, vividly. One of his only remaining clear memories, unclouded and precise. 

Zarkon snorted derisively. “As if you have any right to call me that.”

“I killed you. How does it feel to be defeated by someone  _ so weak _ ?”

“How does it feel to be here?” 

Lotor had no real answer for that, but Zarkon continued, like he hadn’t cared if Lotor answered or not. He probably didn’t, at that. “You are my greatest shame. You were always so weak, so pathetic. It’s no wonder you ended up like this. It was almost worth dying at your hand, just to see you like this, brought so low, reduced to  _ nothing _ .” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lotor insisted. “I killed you. Your blood was on my sword. I watched the light leave your eyes.” Something wasn’t right here, but he was just so damn tired. The lights gave him a headache like a knife digging into his brain. It was so hard to fucking  _ think _ …

“Did you?” 

Did he? False memories were a documented phenomenon. Could he be...misremembering? Confabulating? Confusing his daydreams with reality? 

A disturbing thought. His body had often enough not been whole, but he had always been able to rely on his mind. Sometimes it was the  _ only _ thing he could trust. 

Could he trust it now? 

“No…” Lotor began. “No, get out. Ignore me like you did before.”

“And leave you alone again? Is that what you really want?”

_ No _ . “Yes.” Was it better to be alone, if the only other alternative was to be derided by his father? Lotor couldn’t remember when, exactly, he’d started hating Zarkon, but- 

But. The lack of interpersonal contact was breaking him. If he wasn’t broken already. (If this was even real; he couldn’t tell anymore.) 

But he couldn’t do anything. Only hang there and accept. 

-

Lotor just stared. His vision came and went, alternating between completely whited-out and just-barely-too-bright-to-make-out-more-than-blurs-of-shadow.

But there was no mistaking the figure -figures -in front of him. 

Of course she would come here. Of all that people that had a bone to pick with him, she had, perhaps, felt the most betrayed by what he’d done.

It had felt necessary at the time. 

She had neither the eyes nor the mouth to accuse him, but her presence was accusation enough. 

At least Kova was alright. He’d wondered.

He licked his dry, cracked lips. It didn’t do much; the inside of his mouth was nearly as dry. “Narti?” He whispered hoarsely. 

This...wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The swing of his sword had severed spinal column and tendons and bone and arteries cleanly, efficiently; it had only taken one strike to decapitate her completely. 

There wasn’t much anyone could do at that point, even if the base hadn’t been blown up shortly after. 

So this was not real. 

Which meant...what? 

This was no dream, certainly; he could feel the lack of sleep in his bones, deeper than his bones. The lights burned his eyes, and that plus the sleep deprivation made his eyes gritty and rough and he wished his could claw them out and be free of this pain…

So, this had to be...a hallucination, perhaps. It made sense, he supposed. 

How much of everything else had been a hallucination? Had any of it been real? 

Had Allura really been here, or was that something his mind had conjured? 

What was worse: the brief hope of rescue or the knowledge that no attempt had been made? 

“I’m sorry,” he said, to Narti, too tired to really parse out anything. He couldn’t trust his mind anymore, certainly, and that meant that maybe the strike hadn’t been as clean as he recalled. Maybe it was all fabricated. Maybe he wasn’t even a real person, and this was…

He didn’t know. 


	15. Pep Talk

He was too tired to even be surprised that he was looking directly into his own eyes. 

It was so much easier to just accept that it was all real, rather than try to think about it. 

_ Stop fighting stop fighting stop fighting stop  _

He was as he was Before, armored and strong. Proud. There was a cruel twist to his lips, which. Well. One had to learn cruelty, just as one had to learn kindness, and he’d only had lessons in the former. 

“Gods, you really are just…” The double shook his head. “There’s no word to describe just exactly how pathetic you are.”

“Just leave me alone.” 

“Leave you alone? No, I don’t think so. Not yet. I’m amazed you let someone drag us down to this. Weren’t you supposed to be better than this? Didn’t you have dreams and aspirations and hopes and-“

“Just stop it! None of that matters anymore.”

“Without those, then you are just some mindless slave with no use above that which Sendak desires. We did not survive everything the universe threw at us just to end up like this. Now lift your chin. You’re not done yet.”

“What am I supposed to do! There’s no way out of this. I tried, ok? I tried so goddamn long and so goddamn hard and none of it made a fucking difference. I’m here because I tried, and if I try again, then-“ He couldn’t force the words out; even thinking about what Sendak might do if Lotor tried to kill him again made him panic.

“There will be another chance. Wait for it. Take it. Or do you think you’re some martyr like in those Altean mortality plays we loved so much?” 

“Martyrs have followers. Who do we have?”

“Ourself. The only thing we’ve ever had. Pretend you’re a hero in some epic, who must suffer and become all the stronger for it, if that makes it easier.”

“I’m no hero.”

“You could be. We’ve always wanted that. There will be a time, soon, when we can make it a reality.”

“I can’t.”

“ _ You can _ . You have to. Or will you allow Sendak to destroy you completely? Victory or death, remember?” 

Victory or death. Right. “Sendak won’t kill me if I don’t succeed.” 

“No, he’ll let you live. He’ll punish you. Send you to the Druids when he tires of you. But you will be alive, and as long as you are alive, then there is still a chance for us. A slim one, but a chance nonetheless. As long as you seize it.” 

* * *

It was quiet after that. An agonizing quiet, since his hearing had sharpened when his vision had finally given out completely. 

The lash-marks on his back had become infected. The room had been cool before, but now it was unbearably cold against his fevered skin. Septic shock might kill him. That wouldn’t be so bad, in the grand scheme of things. Not an honorable death, but it would be relatively painless in the final stages. 

Being in a coma sounded really nice right now, actually. Wouldn’t help the fact that he couldn’t catch his breath, but it would surely be restful. And then he’d just...slip away. Quietly. Peacefully. 

And then it would be over. 


	16. If Only

Sendak watched the video feed. 

Lotor really did look pathetic like that, ranting and raving at things that weren’t there. Stretched thin enough that one could easily count his ribs from here. 

Sendak had no idea what he was ranting about; the audio feeds had been muted, at his request, ostensibly because Lotor’s voice had become obnoxious. (The truth, which he could barely admit to himself: something almost like regret clawed at him when he listened.) 

He’d dislocated his shoulders at some point, probably accidentally (but you never could be sure with Lotor) so he just...hung there, limply, shivering, when he wasn’t having conversations with his hallucinations. 

It only got worse. 

Infection had clearly set in, and despite everything the Druids did to keep him awake, he was semi-conscious at best. 

“Take him down,” he said finally.

“There are two days left in the protocol,” the lead Druid replied. 

“Was I being unclear?” Sendak asked. “Take him down. He’s dying.”

“Was that not the point?”

It had been, at first. He’d been so angry that Lotor had managed, somehow, to find the will to use that knife. But it had been almost three weeks ago by now. He’d had time to cool off and realize that this wasn’t… 

“End this,” he said firmly. “And do not ever make me repeat myself again.” He turned to leave; something about watching Lotor like this was… He’d thought it would feel good, but it didn’t. “If he dies, so do you.”

It wasn’t pity that he felt. He was sure of that much, at least. Lotor was...vile. A disgusting traitor. A useless, dishonorable brat.

But this…  _ This _ was not right. There was no honor in this, and Sendak liked to think of himself as an honorable man. 

Besides, dying from an infection was too easy for Lotor. Sendak wasn’t done with him yet. There were centuries of insults and slights and inconsideration to pay back yet, with interest. 

* * *

Lotor remained comatose for an additional two days after the sedatives wore off. 

Sendak could, while Lotor was asleep, imagine what might have been. If he hadn’t defied Zarkon so stridently. If he’d been more loyal. 

But that was not in Lotor’s nature. It never would be, and Lotor had made his choice a long, long time ago. 

Only in the loneliest hours of the night, did Sendak allow himself to think what might have happened if he’d followed Lotor into exile. Lotor had been ambivalent about him until that point, and if he’d spoken out, if he’d followed him, then…

Sendak studied the cuff tethering Lotor’s wrist to the bedpost. The gag stuffed between his teeth. Even like this, it wasn’t wise to let one’s guard down around him. Sendak had thought him completely broken, and yet he’d managed to throw a knife at his back. A few inches over, and…

So the precautions were necessary. If he ever woke up, Lotor would need a fair amount of tending. And Sendak had no intention of having another soldier under his command bitten. It had been nasty, too, almost requiring complete amputation of the hand in question. 

It really was too bad about Lotor’s personality. 

But Sendak supposed he’d just have to settle for having Lotor however he could. Even if it was like this. 


	17. Waking Up

When Lotor opened his eyes, there was no noticeable difference in the lighting. He blinked a few times to be sure. 

No, his vision was definitely… Unavailable. 

That was fine. He definitely didn’t need that. See things? No, absolutely not. 

There was something metallic in his mouth, possibly a gag. It had knocked loose a few of his teeth. They weren’t quite ready to come out yet, so his gums just oozed blood.

This was fine. It wasn’t like the acerbic  sweetness of his own blood churned his stomach. Nope, everything was just fine. Absolutely.  

He rolled over onto his back, and two things happened:

One, hot knives of pain lanced across his back, just as intense as the original lashings had been. 

Two, his wrist caught on something.

Ignoring the pain, he reached up with his free hand to investigate. It seemed they’d cuffed him to the bed. 

It wasn’t like he could walk like this anyway. Just trying to sit up would probably be agony. 

He could hear the hum of the ship’s engines again. 

It was a relief. In the white room, even that sound had been blocked out somehow.

A large hand stroked his hair.

He leaned into the touch, unthinkingly, grateful just for the contact. 

“The Druids weren’t sure you’d wake up,” Sendak rumbled. 

Lotor’s memories of the white room were hazy at best. He knew, vaguely, that he had hallucinated, but not of what. 

And he’d been able to see in those hallucinations, which meant…

“But you did. I always admired your strength,” Sendak continued.

Had Lotor ever been strong? He didn’t know. All he knew was the painful haze of the white room, and this small comfort Sendak gave him. Everything else was meaningless. 

And then, too quickly, Sendak’s hand was gone, and the mattress shifted, and-

_ Don’t go! _ Lotor wanted to scream. He wasn’t sure he’d survive being alone again. 

“You must rest and recover,” Sendak ordered. “You’re no good to me like this.”

Lotor wanted to tell him that that wasn’t true. That he’d do anything to please Sendak, absolutely anything, as long as it meant Sendak would  _ stay _ ...

He couldn’t, of course.

* * *

Lotor’s vision returned slowly, in fits and starts. Even the low lights of the small room he was in were too much at first, searing into his eyes like hot pokers. 

Some days, he could make out fuzzy blurs, and other times he could actually see colors.

None of this interested him. Being able to see didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. The possible repercussions of his time in the white room didn’t matter. 

Only Sendak. 

It surprised both of them, when, one day while Sendak was there to check on his progress, he started purring. 

It was completely involuntary. He just...couldn’t help himself. Sendak’s hand stroking his hair felt...too good, and he was still in pain, and he needed these small comforts, and…

He ended up purring himself to sleep. 

* * *

When his vision was mostly back -enough so that he wasn’t going to run into things, anyway -he was taken back to the Imperial Suite.

The gouge in the wall was still there. The knife had been returned to its table. 

Lotor’s eyes flicked over it; just registering that it was there made his heart speed up and his throat tighten. 

Some part of him resisted calling this place  _ home _ , but it was still good to be back.

* * *

The teeth came out when they were ready, the replacements already coming in. Sharper and stronger than their antecedents. A part of him -a deep, instinctual part -was relieved they were coming in. His teeth were his last line of defense, with his claws filed down, and to be without, even temporarily… 

Not that Sendak would let anyone else harm him. 

As long as he was good.

And he could be good. 


	18. Numb

Lotor watched Sendak shed his armor avidly, as he did every day when Sendak returned to the Suite. 

There was a world -a universe -outside those doors, but it was not one that Lotor was interested in. It held nothing of value for him; all it did was serve to distract Sendak, who was, by rights, his.

Well, no. That wasn’t how this worked. But Lotor was free to pretend, as long as he didn’t voice his thoughts. So, in his mind, Sendak was his, just as much as he was Sendak’s.

In reality, it was true, too. His temporary blindness had sharpened his sense of smell, and so he would have been able to smell any of Sendak’s other lovers on him. 

He never did. 

Maybe -and it was so long ago, now -maybe when Sendak had asked, the first time, he should have accepted. He could have had this all along.

Maybe it would have been easier.

It was too difficult to parse out thoughts like that anymore. For the most part, there was only the here and now, and right now, Sendak had turned his full attention on Lotor. 

Lotor flushed, pleased and somehow...put off by it. But the pleasure was the important part, and he pushed his discomfort as far away from himself as possible. 

It was so much easier just to accept it. 

Sendak flipped him over onto his belly easily, which made his stomach twist with both desire and a sick feeling he couldn’t name; that, too, he ignored. 

Sendak’s teeth fit perfectly into the scars of old bites on the back of Lotor’s neck. He managed to get his knees under him, suddenly eager for it. 

He hated the empty feeling that pervaded him when Sendak left him alone; this would fill that space, make him feel  _ something _ , and, perhaps, that was why he craved it. 

Sometimes, he wondered what Sendak felt for him. But that was the path to thinking too hard, and he stopped those thoughts as soon as he caught them. 

Sendak entered him in one swift motion, shocking and intense and exactly what Lotor craved. Plumbing the depths of actual emotion was far too difficult _ , far too dangerous _ ; best to let the surface sensation carry him through, give him everything he needed. 

Sendak fucked him hard and fast and just right, and Lotor came untouched just as Sendak finished, almost reflexively at this point.

Sendak stretched out next to him, stroking his hair and murmuring sweet and vicious nothings.

It was almost perfect. Almost good. Almost just right. 

It should have been enough for Lotor.

So why did he feel disastrously  _ numb _ ?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last three chapters will be posted next week :)


	19. An Unexpected Guest

He didn’t lift his head when the doors slid open. His grasp of time passing had been completely destroyed, so while it was too early for Sendak to be returning, he didn’t know that. 

“ _ Lotor _ ?” 

The incredulity and the unfamiliar voice made him look up finally. 

And he stared. 

Sendak was the only person who came into these rooms. Sentries came, too, to clean and whatnot, but Lotor ignored them.

This person was not a sentry, and he was definitely not Sendak. 

What should he do? There was a panic button on the wall near the headboard, and pressing it would bring sentries and guards in here immediately. They’d kill this intruder, or take him captive, and then Lotor could go back to thinking of nothing. It was too hard to think, these days. 

The person wore a uniform that Lotor had seen before, though it took him too long to place it. The Blade of Marmora. This Blade was a little short to be a full-blooded Galra, but…

Then the Blade reached up and deactivated his mask.

Lotor blinked. He felt he should recognize this person, but… Those memories would be from Before. 

He was human, at least partially, like most of the Paladins. Was that why he looked familiar? 

The Blade flushed red and averted his eyes. “Can you-?”

Lotor frowned. Why-? Oh. Right. He was nude. He’d been kept this way so long. He pulled a sheet up over his lap. “Did the Blade of Marmora send you?” He asked finally, the words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get out. He couldn’t remember the last real conversation he’d had. 

“Yes,” the Blade said. “But I- I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” 

“I...don’t know. You just...disappeared after the Kral Zera, and no one’s seen you since. We just assumed you had… I don’t know. But I can- I can get you out.”

”Out?” Lotor asked, the words not really making sense. 

“When I’m done here, I could take you with me.”

Lotor’s heart was in his throat. He couldn’t  _ breathe _ , much less think. “I-“

“I- I heard what Sendak said, at the Kral Zera,” the Blade said. “So I guess he must have…”

The Blade trailed off, like he had the luxury of not saying it. Not saying it didn’t make it less real. That made Lotor angry.

It was such an unfamiliar feeling now, hot and vitriolic. “I’m here because I chose to be here,” he snapped.

“That’s a load of shit!” The Blade responded, with equal fervor. 

Lotor was taken aback. Startled. Sendak did  _ not _ raise his voice; he had no need to. 

“The Prince Lotor I fought on Thayserix, on Puig, in the Ulippa system, would never have submitted to this!” The Blade continued. “The Prince Lotor who killed his father would be plotting to find his way out of this, for every fucking second of the last two years!”

“That Lotor is dead!” Lotor snarled. And then paused. “Two years?” 

The Blade stepped back, like he was almost afraid of Lotor, which was ridiculous. “It’s been two years since Sendak became the emperor of the Galra Empire.”

Two years? Two entire years? Sure, it felt like millennia, sometimes, but Lotor had assumed it had been a few months, maybe half a year, at most. Two  _ years _ ? 

“Why would you offer to take me with you?” He didn’t remember fighting this Blade at any of the places he mentioned. He barely remembered those battles at all. But if they had fought, it meant they were enemies. 

“Because you saved my life,” the Blade said. 

Did he? Lotor was certainly not in any position to save anyone now, and he could not imagine that he had ever been. “How?” 

“Naxzela? You showed up just as I was about to pilot a small fighter into the particle barrier of Haggar’s ship. If you hadn’t shot the shield down, I would have…”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Lotor said absently. “The mass of the fighter would have been too small.”

“I know that. But I had to try.”

“I don’t remember you,” Lotor admitted. 

“We never actually met. My name’s Keith.” 

“Keith,” Lotor repeated. “So. The Blade sent you.”

“Uh, yeah. They think there could be something useful on Sendak’s personal terminal.”

There might be, at that; Lotor wasn’t given access to it. “It’s through there,” he said, nodding towards another doorway. “Complete your mission.”

“I will come back for you,” Keith said. “I swear it.”

“That would be a suicide mission. It already is, for you to sneak onboard like this. You obviously thought these rooms would be unoccupied; you’re lucky I’m not hostile.” 

“I can’t leave you like this.”

Lotor smiled, a little sadly. “You don’t have a choice. Neither of us do. Complete your mission and forget about me, and I’ll do the same in return. Sendak will never know that you were here.”

Keith paused, frowned, trying to think of another strategy. “We’re losing the war,” he said finally. “Without Shi- without the Black Lion-we can’t form Voltron. In fact, I haven’t seen the rest of the team in months; they’ve retreated all the way back to Earth, and it’s not enough. I came here in the hopes that there was something in Sendak’s personal files, and instead I found you.

“You are a master strategist and tactician, a good leader, an ally… You could turn the tide of the war.”

“Once, maybe. But that was Before. Anyway, I can’t leave these rooms.” He tapped the collar. “This will immobilize me, and cause an alarm to go off. In less than a minute, all of the sentries in this section of the ship will flood in here, with Sendak following shortly after. Even if you could physically take me with you, you couldn’t fight through all of that without help, which I would be unable to give you.”

“Could you take the collar off?”

“Don’t you think I tried that?” And he had, during the first few weeks. ( _ Two years ago? _ )  “Only Sendak can, because he holds the remote.”

“We could kill him.” He said it so casually, like it was actually an option. 

The thought physically sickened Lotor. Sendak had burrowed under his skin, into every crack and crevice; there was no part of Lotor Sendak hadn’t touched, poured himself into. “I- I can’t.”

“You have a better chance than I do. As soon as he saw me, he’d be on guard, the element of surprise gone. You can get close without him getting suspicious.”

Keith was right. He could get intimately close. 

( _ “So. I’ll ask one more time, Lotor: what do you want?” _

__ _ “My freedom,” Lotor said.) _

__ _ (“Now lift your chin. You’re not done yet.”) _

“I’ll need a weapon.” 

Keith glanced at the knife that was still in plain view, after so many months. 

“He’d know if that were gone,” Lotor said. And he can’t- The thought of just touching the knife is- His vision whited out completely, like he’s back- 

Keith nodded. “Ok. Here, take this.” He handed Lotor the knife at his waist. Luxite, worth a fortune. “Hide it, use it when you have the opportunity.”

* * *

Keith had slipped into his hiding place in the ventilation shaft long before Sendak returned. There was no trace left of him anywhere, as far as Lotor could tell, like he’d never been.

No trace except for the knife carefully wedged between the bed and the wall, positioned just so, for Lotor to use when the time came.

It was almost like waking up. It had been so long since he’d needed to keep track of time, and now it was ticking away all too slowly.

It was only Keith’s certainty that kept him from changing his mind. He didn’t know why Keith seemed to have faith in him, but he did, and Lotor couldn’t fail him. Wouldn’t fail him. 

He was still an anxious mess by the time Sendak returned, but Sendak’s dismissal of him as merely an object of convenience worked in his favor. Sendak didn’t care what his mental state was, as long as he spread his legs when Sendak demanded. 

He did when Sendak finished putting aside the trappings of an emperor. That was routine, nothing Lotor wasn’t used to by now. 

Sendak had grown a great deal fonder of fucking Lotor from the front, something Lotor did not see the appeal of, but it worked in his favor.

When Sendak was weak and complacent in his pleasure, Lotor planted his feet against the mattress and leveraged them over in one swift motion.

Sendak grinned lewdly, but before he could comment, the knife was at his throat, and then it was sliding into flesh and muscle and tendons.

Veritable geysers of arterial blood sprayed everywhere: the wall, the ceiling, the bed, Lotor.

There was panic in Sendak’s eye, and he tried to reach out and push the panic button -for as much good as it would do him now -but he was rapidly growing weaker, and it was easy for Lotor to bat his hand away.

“Save your strength,” Lotor crooned. “I need you to hear what I have to say.”

Everything flooded back, and suddenly he was Prince Lotor again, proud and sly and never, ever weak. Always right where he wanted to be. As if the last two years had never happened. 

He shifted himself so that he sat on Sendak’s chest. It made it hard for Sendak to breathe, of course, but the blood slowly filling his lungs did that, too. 

It would be a few minutes, probably, before Sendak bled out, if drowning in his own blood didn’t kill him first. That was enough time, as far as Lotor was concerned.

“You might think that this is revenge for what you did to me,” Lotor began. “It’s not. This is nothing compared to what you deserve. It’s just convenient.  ”

They both knew Sendak was dying; the geysers had been reduced to mere spurts of blood, and Sendak gasped and heaved and choked for each breath, blood staining his mouth and chin. 

Lotor took the knife and set it against the edge of Sendak’s prosthetic eye. “In fact,” he continued, “this is nothing personal. It never had to be personal between us, but you couldn’t understand that. You’re only dying now because you got in my way. I warned you, so long ago -do you remember? -to stay out of my way, but you couldn’t do that, could you?” 

He pried the eye out, the wires snapping and sparking as he did so. He didn’t have to do that, he knew; he would need proof of Sendak’s death to show the troops on board, but he could have waited until Sendak was well and truly dead. He’d chosen not to. 

“It never mattered what you did to me. The moment you got in my way, it was always going to end here, just like this, no matter what other choices you made. And I won. So. I win. Vrepit sa, Sendak.”

He set the knife and the eye aside and listened to Sendak’s death rattle. A truly terrible sound, but Lotor would do this as many times as necessary. 

He stood, finally, after ensuring that Sendak was dead. He was covered head-to-toe in vibrant pink blood; it dripped from his hair, and from the tips of his fingers, but he didn’t even attempt to wipe it away. 

Instead, he rifled through Sendak’s discarded clothes until he found the remote, then he removed the collar. 

He’d expected it to be a weight off his shoulders, both literally and metaphorically; instead, he felt suddenly dizzy, as if the last thing tethering him to reality was gone and now he was floating in the void of space, alone and defenseless.

He rushed to the bathroom and barely got to the toilet before he was vomiting. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and only bile came up, and it hurt so much, like his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out-

He barely noticed his hair being pulled back from his face.

It was only when he stopped heaving and sat back that he registered Keith. 

They just stared at each other for a long moment before Keith turned away. He filled a glass with water and handed it to Lotor. 

Lotor rinsed his mouth out and then drank the rest of the water. “...Thank you,” he said finally. 

“It’s nothing,” Keith said. “So. Now what?”


	20. Aftermath

Keith had never met Lotor in person, though he’d seen him a few times, during comm calls from the castle-ship, and during his public appearances before he’d been branded a traitor to the Empire. 

He barely seemed like the same person now. Either that armor had added considerable bulk to his frame, or all of his muscle mass had just melted off over the last two years, leaving him gaunt and fragile-looking. 

There were scars -old and new -all over his body, and sometimes, he winced when he moved his arms, or squinted against the lights, or flinched at sudden movements.

Keith wasn’t an idiot; he could guess at Lotor’s purpose in Sendak’s rooms, collared and nude. 

Clearly, that wasn’t the only thing that had happened to him. 

Keith didn’t want to think about it, and he supposed he should be grateful that he even had that luxury. 

The soldiers onboard had submitted to Lotor’s control once he’d shown up to the bridge, covered in Sendak’s blood, holding his prosthetic eye, with Keith at his heels. 

It was well into the ship’s night-cycle, and now they were alone again. 

“The Archivist has called for the Kral Zera in two days,” Lotor said neutrally, picking at the food in front of him. 

“And that’s...good?” Keith guessed. 

Lotor inclined his head. “Sendak managed to kill most of his rivals, it seems. Anyone who would threaten his rule.”

“Except you.”

Lotor sighed. “Except me. It will not be...honorable, in the traditional sense, to have no one to face at the Kral Zera, but I fear I would be unable to defeat anyone in this state.”

Starved and weak, completely unfit… Keith can see that. Lotor was already at a disadvantage when fighting other Galra, just based on his size; like this… 

“So you’ll be able to win uncontested?”

“Perhaps. The witch is still at-large, and I fear…” Whatever Lotor feared, he didn’t say. 

Keith didn’t ask; the haunted look in Lotor’s eyes was answer enough. 

Lotor stood abruptly. “In the meantime, the ship’s resources are yours. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.” He left.

Keith couldn’t stay; he had to find Shiro still. There had been nothing useful on Sendak’s terminal. He had no idea what Shiro might be going through, but based on Lotor’s treatment and Shiro’s previous treatment, it wouldn’t be pretty. Waiting wasn’t an option.

But. If he was free to use the ship’s resources… Maybe he could access all the files on the ship. 

The Druids had fled the moment they heard Sendak was dead, apparently out of fear for retribution. With good reason, as it turned out; Keith had been there as Lotor had coldly ordered their shuttles shot down. 

But their files… Those would still be onboard. And maybe… Maybe those would have the information he needed. 

* * *

The next morning, Keith found Lotor on the bridge, stiff and stern, his chin held high and his shoulders square. He’d managed to find his armor somewhere, and it went a long way towards disguising his thin frame. 

Not all the way; his face was still gaunt and his eyes were haunted, sunken.

He hadn’t slept well; that, at least, Keith was familiar with. 

“I think I know where Shiro is,” Keith said.

Lotor’s shoulders tensed, almost imperceptibly, and then he relaxed -or forced himself to relax -before turning to face Keith. “I see.” 

“So… I’m going to need a shuttle or something, because I sort of snuck aboard at the last resupply stop? And then I’ll be on my way.” 

Lotor didn’t say anything for a long time, and as much as Keith tried, he couldn’t read his expression. “You could stay,” he said finally. “I find myself without allies, alone, and I- The Kral Zera is tomorrow. You must fight well. You would be a great asset to me, and I will be able to reward you when I win.”

“So sure of yourself,” Keith said without thinking.

“I have to be,” Lotor said quietly. “No one else ever was.” 

It’s a particular kind of honesty, and Keith didn’t know what it meant. He’s almost afraid of finding out. 

“I can’t stay,” he said, instead of asking, or prying, or anything else that would be dangerous. “I have to find Shiro.”

“Where is he being held?” Lotor asked, and Keith told him.

Lotor nodded absently. “Feyiv is on the way, and this ship is faster than any shuttle I could give you. Stay until the Kral Zera is over.” 

Keith didn’t know why Lotor was so insistent on keeping him here. He’d given a reason, yes, but somehow Keith didn’t think it was the truth. Still, he found himself nodding. “Ok. Until the Kral Zera is over. But then I’m gone.” 


	21. What You Want vs What You Need

This was definitely a mistake, Lotor knew. And yet he couldn’t help but make it. 

Certainly, there was some part of him that was grateful -and more than grateful -for what Keith did. And there was also some part of him that was horribly afraid of Keith leaving.

Perhaps this might convince him to stay. 

He’d sent an invitation for Keith to join him in his quarters, ostensibly to discuss tomorrow’s events. Sendak had managed to take out most of his opposition, but there was still a possibility that someone would try to oust Lotor anyway. 

Lotor wasn’t too concerned about it; he’d killed two emperors already, and he’d kill as many as he had to. The Throne was the only place he could be assured of some modicum of safety. 

He admitted Keith the second he knocked. 

Keith’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Lotor.

Alone, in his quarters, Lotor had dressed down, wearing only a thin robe. After two years of wearing not a stitch of clothing, suddenly reverting back to wearing full armor was…jarring. Irritating. 

Keith flushed; such an endearing trait humans had. 

“I should go,” he said, carefully averting his eyes. He made no move to leave, though. 

Lotor stepped forward, just inside Keith’s personal space. It made his skin itch, just a little, to be so close to someone, but he needed it, too. Craved it. 

“Stay,” Lotor murmured, the double meaning clear to both of them. “Please.” 

Keith’s breath hitched at that. “I can’t,” he said, “and I shouldn’t. You don’t- You don’t really want this.”

“I do,” Lotor insisted, and anyway, it didn’t matter what he wanted. Only what he needed, and he needed this. Needed someone to make him forget  _ exactly _ how Sendak’s hands felt on his skin. “Please, Keith.” 

Keith swallowed hard; Lotor’s attention was fixed on the bob of his larynx. “It’s a bad idea,” Keith said. “You’re just… Because I was there. Not because you really want me.”

That might be true, or it might not. It didn’t matter; Lotor didn’t want to examine his feelings too closely. He just wanted to feel. To have someone close. And the only person aboard this ship he was even remotely close to trusting was right in front of him. “I want to forget,” Lotor said. “You can help me. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Keith shook his head. “No. I won’t… do that. I’ll stay, for now, if you want, but I won’t…” 

“Alright,” Lotor conceded. It was likely the best deal he was going to get. 

* * *

He slept better than he had in a long, long time. Keith had ended up curled against him, and it was...so incredibly nice. He was almost glad sex was off the table; there were no expectations there, and that was...freeing. 

He still wanted to kiss Keith awake. Hold him. Study him. Map each scar. 

It was frightening. Morning had revealed some disturbing truths, and he certainly did not want to face them.

Keith woke up slowly. “Today’s the day,” he said sleepily. Endearingly. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Keith was still half-asleep that gave Lotor the courage to ask. 

“When you find Shiro, will you come back to me?”

Keith took an eternity to answer. 

“Yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to write a sequel at some point, so... :)


End file.
